I don’t know what’s like to be black.
I will not know what’s like to be black in this lifetime.
I do know what’s like to look confident when not.
I do know what’s like to “feel” like an imposter.
I do not know how it feels to be an African American stopped by a police officer on the way to pick up a quart of milk for his kid’s pancake breakfast just because he DWB.
I do know how it feels to be white while wearing a business suit in the Airport and how this provides instant approval from some of the security officers profiling the central casting terrorist type, dressed formally or casual
I don’t know what it’s like to be a police officer approaching a vehicle that meets the description of one involved in a recent armed robbery. I don’t know what it’s like to approach same vehicle after it stops with the uncertainty of whether this will be his/her last few moments in this incarnation.
I don’t know what’s like driving a dad car, 2013 Honda Accord while DWB, with kids in the back seat, and worried every time a police car is passed or close by.
I know how it feels to drive in any US city while white and looking like a dad driving a dad car, 2013 Honda Accord, sans kids in the back seat, not nervous while driving close to or by a police car.
I know what’s like to be a human, alive in 2016, wanting to be happy just like you.